


In and out

by bluebells



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Bondage as DIY Mental Health, Dom/sub Undertones, Entirely appropriate use of the Force, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, OT4, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7686412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: </p><p>When they take Kylo Ren prisoner, Rey ties him up, bound at the ankles, wrists behind his back. She's used to securing cargo, locking things down tight enough to hold through sinking pits and sandstorms. </p><p>Later at some temporary outpost in the middle of nowhere where they're on a mission with Ben, he comes to her door in the middle of the night, wild eyed, shaking, covered in gouges with his own blood under his nails. Finn and Poe and Rey all wake up fast; they move to reach their weapons, but what he says is: "Please kill me. I don't want to hurt anyone, I don't want it to happen again." Finn says, "Whoa, okay, let's calm down, nobody is going to be killing anybody", and Rey narrows her eyes and catches Poe, who is already headed off to find a first aid kit, and tells him to find a pair of wrist locks and bring them back with him.</p><p>Being restrained makes Ben feel safe, mostly from himself and what he might do to the people around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In and out

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I take breaks from grad school. Nowhere near the level of BDSM probably intended by the original prompt. This diverges from the bedroom request to the cargo hold with the notion that everyone else was going about their business for the mission, when suddenly --

It is a startling relief being cut at the knees.

Rey’s will strikes next like a weight on Kylo’s shoulders, forcing him to his back on the ship's floor. He arches on the uncomfortable shape of his wrists bound beneath him, arms throbbing in hot agony. When he tries to roll his shoulders, they won't move. Rey’s will moves over him in a tremulous wave, still uncertain in her power, but she is stronger than Kylo remembers.

He had lashed out on instinct at the locks around his wrists. Now, he tenses in anticipation of the snap of bone, a crushing grip around his windpipe. He asked for it and still he can't help bracing against it.

_Coward to the last._

Rey’s ruthless strength is a balm.

Calloused fingertips press under Kylo’s chin, curving his neck, tilting his head back.

He’d squeezed his eyes shut the moment he hit the floor of the cargo hold. When he looks, it’s the pilot he finds staring down at him. On his knees, blaster resting at his shoulder, Poe pulls his hand back. He lingers on Kylo’s cheek, thumb near the corner of his mouth. His dark eyes narrow, flicking up the length of Kylo’s body, long and bound.

“Are you enjoying this?” Poe’s voice is soft with surprise. The pinch of a frown betrays his disapproval.

Kylo’s jaw clenches and he feels the hot flush all the way down his chest.

Of course not. He’d never suffer the indignity of this submission if not for that girl.

He would tell them as much if he could manage more than a snarl, choked deep in his throat. Rey’s hold is so tight on his body, so close on his mind, it’s almost claustrophobic. He can’t string two coherent words together.

“Is he fighting you?” Finn’s soft question from across the cargo hold is barely audible.

Rey doesn’t answer in any words Kylo can hear.

Poe looks up at Rey, whose breathing has settled, slow and deep with Kylo’s own rhythm. Or is it he who fell in sync with her?

“Not the intention, but --” Poe shrugs, arching a dark eyebrow at his comrades.

“I wasn’t looking for a fight tonight.” Finn sounds inclined to agree with him.

Across the room, Kylo feels Rey shiver at the end of a long, thin exhale. The Force swells in the walls of the ship around them like the howl of the storm beyond its hull, coursing towards Rey with her every breath.

 Poe’s fingers tilting his gaze away, Kylo can’t see them, but he shuts his eyes and bites his tongue. A growl rumbles out of his chest in protest when he loosens, his body fighting the wordless nudge: _relax, relax…._

 On the hood of his eyelids, sinking deeper for a moment, Kylo sees them without sight. They burn like spotlights of disturbance in the Force. Above him, Poe is a slow pulse of calm, but a quiet anger sparks through the cracks with the curl of his fingers under Kylo’s jaw. Finn glows like a beacon in the dark, warmth of a hearth flickering at the edges with a wariness he can’t quite hide. He lingers in Rey’s heat -- Rey who burns the brightest with _fight_ and _hope_ at the core of her, coiling and flaring like a star barely restrained.

There aren’t many people in the galaxy that could take Kylo, but maybe these three….

Outside, the storm is getting worse. Beneath Kylo, the nail-deep gouges in his arms throb beneath their bandages. There’s a grief in him so black and heavy it curdles like crude in his gut. 

_Please… please._

When he fell to his knees before these three under the mouth of this planet’s storms, Finn just hushed him, “Whoa, okay, let’s calm down, nobody is going to be killing anybody….” 

In the background, he had heard Poe muttering, “I told her -- he wasn’t ready.”

He’d wanted to curl on himself at the mention of his mother. The thought of her finding out about this... he couldn’t bear the disappointment in her face, imagined as easily as Kylo could see his own hands trembling when he raised them to Rey, her expression slack with shock.

But still. Better than the heartbreak if he hurt even one more person.

It was something about the storm of this mining planet, the gale of volcanic rock and ash that smothered the sun and unearthed the rot in Leia Organa’s son.

“Please…” Kylo’s voice had croaked, the words a poison he had to expel. “Please kill me. I don't… don’t want to hurt anyone, I don't want it to happen again.”

He burns. He’s so ashamed for even asking. The pound of his heart feels like it will shatter him apart. He never knew asking (begging) so plainly for what he needed would liberate and gore him like this. He wants to scour the knowledge of his weakness from these traitors, these murderers, these....

_No, you can’t think like that anymore, these are your people now, these are your --_

_No, not -- never yours, you stupid boy._

_If only you were strong enough to do this yourself._

The pressure on him flinches. Bright spots of light dance in his mind’s eye. He whimpers, twisting with the last of his strength.

“Rey… Rey, let him breathe,” Poe murmurs, and a moment later, Kylo is gasping in air, eyes flying open to the bleary shadows of the skywalk above in the cargo bay.

“Sorry,” Rey says, voice tight with caution. “I just.... We need to watch him tonight.”

“Can you hold him?” Finn asks, so soft that Kylo almost doesn’t hear him beneath the storm’s howl.

“Yeah.”

A tap against Kylo’s chin drags his awareness back to Poe, the pilot asks him, “Are you going to give us trouble?”

He wants. And he doesn’t. He can’t. But he -- a sob strangles in Kylo’s throat and his body flushes with the fever throb of the wounds in his arms. 

He only needs to give them one more reason to put him down.

But not if it means giving this up. Not yet.

Something changes in the air above him, a silent exchange he can’t read even through his connection with the Force that’s shifting like eddies of static the harder he tries to focus on it.

“So, what’s the plan? We hold him like this until help comes?” Finn asks at last, breaking the silence.

“We don’t need help,” Rey says, her voice hard.

“The worst of the storm will pass in a few hours,” Poe says. “We’ll get off this planet.”

Booted footsteps cross the cargo hold. Clothing rustles and a knee comes to rest on the floor. Kylo flinches at the hand Finn closes on his shoulder, inhaling sharply when fingers squeeze around the bone.

“Hey,” Finn hushes, his thumb stroking firm arcs on the curve of Kylo’s shoulder. His voice is so steady and bracing it makes Kylo's eyes sting, because Kylo opened this man's back with a lightsaber. He should not be trying to hold Kylo together. “You’re all right. It’s just us here. Okay? You’re going to be all right.”

Where Finn is grounding, Poe shocks Kylo back into awareness. Poe’s fingers move from Kylo’s jaw to sink into his hair. It’s startlingly intimate, bare fingertips threading through its thickness, gathering into a loose fist. Kylo groans as the hold in his hair tightens, releases, lightly scratching in a simple massage that turns his spine to liquid.

“Just breathe,” Rey’s voice is pitched low in command. She doesn’t speak through the Force, and he appreciates that so much that it makes him weak. The pressure of her will pushes up his chest like a physical touch, and Kylo breathes in tandem. It hurts, as though his lungs will only expand so far, but Finn squeezes his shoulder in encouragement, and Poe cradles his head.

“That’s it,” Rey says. “Breathe, Kylo.”

It's harder than it should be.


End file.
